


the interior of a heart

by billionairevolleyboysclub



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Pre-Kerberos to S1 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billionairevolleyboysclub/pseuds/billionairevolleyboysclub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hears Shiro's voice through his earpiece frantically ordering him to -stay close Keith try to stay as close as you can- before the wormhole's gravity pushes upon his chest and makes his vision swim. His mind slowly goes blank as his body slumps forward. </p><p>And Keith dreams. Keith remembers.</p><p>---</p><p>Everything needs a creation story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the interior of a heart

He hears Shiro's voice through his earpiece frantically ordering him to _stay close Keith try to stay as close as you can-_ before the wormhole's gravity pushes upon his chest and makes his vision swim. His mind slowly goes blank as his body slumps forward. 

And Keith dreams. Keith remembers.

\---

His eyes open to the gentle sun streaming through the shop’s blinds.  
  
And to the sound of Mrs. Morris’ newspaper roll hitting the counter a few inches from his forehead.  
  
Keith jolts, waist snapping up and propelling him into a standing position immediately.

“No drooling on the cash register sleepyhead.”

One hand reaches up to press against his spinning head as his squint meets Mrs. Morris’ good-humored look.

“Sorry.”

She slowly makes her way around the counter, white hair shining in the streams of sunlight.

“Seems like a slow day today anyway. If you want to nap though, make sure you do it in the stockroom next time,” she replies, eyes crinkling around the corners as she throws Keith an amused smile.

Keith can’t help but send an abashed smile back.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mrs. Morris steps forward, taking over the cash register. “ But right now I need you to go check on a few of the reptiles again, I think their basking area might need to be cleaned out.”

Keith groans and she throws him a puzzled glance, waiting a moment for him to respond.

“The reptiles don’t like me very much,” He mumbles, pushing a flyaway hair back behind his ear. “In fact, none of the animals like me very much.”

“Except the canaries.” Mrs. Morris points out.

“They _tolerate_ me, and even that’s kind of generous.”

Mrs. Morris lets out a warm laugh. “They might like you better if you stuck around and got to know them better,” She replies, placing a gentle hand on Keith’s shoulder. “They just aren’t familiar with you yet. Give them time.”

Keith swallows. “I’ve only got a few more months until the fall semester starts.”

Her small smile doesn’t falter.

“The Galaxy Garrison is a great choice. Just don’t think it’s your only choice. This place has a lot more life in it now that you’re around.”

Keith thinks about the shop. The slow sunny days when the only people popping in were other elderly ladies who were there to visit Mrs. Morris, or the lanky delivery boy whose face flushed whenever Keith was working the cash register on lucky days. The warm weekend breakfasts they would prepare in the kitchen above the shop, Keith peeling potatoes with clumsy hands alongside the old photo of her son hanging on the refrigerator. Mrs. Morris’ kindness. The quiet evenings when she would leave the keys to her son’s old motorcycle on Keith’s dresser. It was a far cry from the neighborhood fights and stale meals at the foster home. It was a different type of stability he’d been hoping for when applying to the Garrison, but a softer stability he didn’t know he wanted.

“I-“

“I don’t need an answer now Keith,” Her hand gently squeezes his shoulder before letting go. “Just think about it.”

Keith closes his mouth slowly and nods.

“Good. Now, you know where the cleaning supplies are in the stockroom right?”

“Top shelf, on the left?”

She replied with an approving nod. “The reptiles are waiting.”

Keith lets out another half-hearted groan, dodging another soft blow of Mrs. Morris’ newspaper roll and darting toward the stockroom.

“Go do your job.”

“Yes boss”

He’s still thinking about her offer when he walks into the stockroom, stepping on a cardboard box to reach the corner of the shelves. His fingers are almost entirely around the spray bottle when the box underneath him suddenly caves in under his weight and he curses, heart rate picking up as he slips backward.

\---

The _pop_ of his ankle as he goes down tells him this cadet is _dead fucking meat_. His back hits the training mat with a thud, ankle throbbing as he feels an angry heat spread from his chest up to the back of his neck. Black hair crowds his vision as he whips his head up from the mat, staring down the burly blonde looking entirely too pleased with himself before the instructor interrupts his view.

“CADET COLEMAN! I SAID NO HITS BELOW THE BELT. WHAT PART OF THAT INSTRUCTION WAS TOO DIFFICULT FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND?”

“Instructor-”

The instructor grabs Coleman by the lapel of his training jacket, hauling him close.

“No please, let me know if the directions given were too hard to understand. You were supposed to _spar_ with your opponent not _incapacitate_ them,” She releases Coleman’s lapel with a slight shove. “Head to the principal’s office cadet”

“Hey I didn’t me-”

“Oh you definitely meant to you piece of-,” Keith starts angrily, pushing up his elbows and letting out a hiss when the movement jostles his ankle.

The instructor interrupts both of them, turning to the rest of the pairs, all of whom have stopped sparring, electing instead to stand around watching the drama unfold. She points at a particularly lanky brunette cadet outwardly gawking at the scene.

“You. Take him to the infirmary while I escort Cadet Coleman to the principal’s office. Class is dismissed.” The rest of the class doesn’t have to hear it twice, pulling off gloves and training gear as they bolt toward the locker rooms. “HOWEVER, be prepared to make up the time lost this week during our next class.”

A collective groan goes up.

“Oh yeah, thirty more minutes of kicking ass, I can’t wait,” the brunette cadet mumbles under his breath as he reaches out his hand, helping Keith to his feet. “You ready to hobble?”

Keith winces when the boy unintentionally bumps his ankle as he pulls Keith’s arm over his shoulder, other arm wrapping around his middle. They slowly make their way toward the door as the room begins to clear out.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve introduced myself before we got all _comfortable_.”

“Excuse me?”

“The name’s Lance. Future fighter pilot and current king of dorm wing B.”

Keith blinks at him, quizzical.

“Well right now I’m actually cargo class but it won’t stay that way for long.”

Another beat passes in silence.

“I’m also in four of your classes?” Lance offers, visibly losing some steam.

“Oh.” Keith looks away from Lance’s raised eyebrow, focused on minimizing the movement of his ankle as they hobble down the hallway.

“Which means I know how much of douchebag Coleman is. I can’t believe the nerve of that guy. I was doing laundry the other day and I came down not more than a minute after it was done and he’s already there taking my stuff out to use the washer can you believe it? Touching all my clothes like who knows the last time he washed his hands and not only that but when I came down to the laundry room to collect my dryer he was there _again_ like man I couldn’t have been more than ten, ok maybe twenty minutes-”

Keith tunes him out, eyeing the infirmary doors. Two older cadets crowd the doorway, chatting casually. He recognizes one of them in passing, the tall, broad chested, dark-haired cadet that he sees around the hallways of the pilot wings, or leaving the simulator at early hours of the morning, or ducking into meetings with the upper division instructors. He’s still racking his brain for other instances where he’d seen this cadet around when he realizes Lance is looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, wha-”

The two cadets near the door depart, turning the corner of the hallway, out of sight.

“I mean I can’t be any worse than Coleman, I’m not going to stomp on your feet I promise. Heck it’d be really good practice for you, my current sparring partner says I need to work on my ‘center of balance’ more but Hunk can’t block a blow to save his life so I don’t think he really knows how to handle a heavy-hitter like me.” Lance doesn’t stop to take a breath, just swivels his eyes sideways to glance at Keith briefly. “You’re also not very popular with the rest of the class so I’m not sure who else would want to be your sparring partner when you get back.”

An irritated heat runs through the back of his neck as they enter the infirmary.

“I think I’m fine from this point on,” Keith responds through gritted teeth, “Thanks.”

“Well,” Lance detangles himself from under Keith’s arm as the nurse approaches them, “just let me know then.”

Keith doesn’t respond, clenching the nurse’s arm as she leads him to a cot. When he turns around, Lance is gone. He lies down on the cot, staring at the paneled ceiling as the nurse probes his ankle and examines the swelling.

She makes her diagnosis just as Keith’s instructor walks in, the older, dark-haired boy from earlier stepping in behind her. “It looks like you’ve got a sprained ankle.”

Keith stifles his groan, not wanting to whine in front of the new guests.

His instructor peers forward for a better glance at his ankle before turning to the nurse. “How long before it heals completely?”

“Well,” She begins, walking to the refrigerator and beginning to prepare an ice pack. “Luckily it doesn’t seem to be a significant sprain, the ligaments are just stretched out a bit. I’ll wrap it up and if he keeps off of it and gets plenty of rest he should be fine in about two weeks, if not less.”

“I can’t train for two whole weeks?” Keith can’t help but blurt out. He lowers his voice to a mumble. “ _Fucking Coleman_.”

“Cadet. Language.” His instructor reproaches him without any real heat. He spies the other boy suppress an amused smile.

The nurse ignores his outburst, handing him the ice pack. “Hold this against your ankle for twenty minutes. I’ll wrap it right afterward then you’ll need to hold it there again for another twenty. Try to keep it elevated on that pillow as well.”

Keith does as he’s told, wincing at the ice’s cold bite. His instructor steps forward, planting a firm hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“You might be able to still get some simulator training in and it shouldn’t be a problem getting to your other classes. Strictly no sparring for two weeks though so don’t bother coming to class, you’re not touching a mat in your state.” Her arm drops from Keith’s shoulder, extending toward the other boy. “However, I think it might be best for you to continue your training in a different manner outside the classroom once you heal up. Cadet I’d like to introduce Takashi Shirogane, fourth year. I’d like you two to have independent training sessions in addition to your classes once you’re all ready to go. He’s top of his class and I’m sure you can learn a lot from Cadet Shirogane.”

Takashi Shirogane’s face splits into a warm smile, revealing shiny white teeth as he extends his hand out to Keith. “Please, call me Shiro. Nice to meet you. Sorry to hear about your injury but I’m looking forward to training with you.”

 _Shit._ Keith thinks, noticing the way his bicep flexes under his uniform as Shiro moves. He scrambles to put his ice pack down, half-heartedly wiping his wet hand on his pants before meeting Shiro’s handshake. “Keith.”

If Shiro still feels the cold condensation as he firmly grips Keith’s hand, he doesn’t show it.

Keith’s mouth inadvertently quirks up at Shiro’s warm gaze.

\---

The next time Shiro’s hand touches his the flight simulator goes down in a fiery blaze.

“Well…” Shiro seems at a loss of words as he retracts his hand from on top of Keith’s, where he had reached over to guide him to the proper controls.

Keith stares at the digital flames flooding the screen and indicating failure.

“This is the first time I’ve ever crashed a simulator I promise.” He’s not lying. “Check the scoreboards.”

“Uh-” Shiro leans back, lounging in his chair. “You were actually doing really great until well, until those last few minutes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a faster downward spiral.”

_Yeah those last few minutes when I could feel your breath on my neck then you had to hold my fucking hand._

The simulator finally resets itself, fiery pixels disappearing as the screen fades to black and the cabin lights rise.

“I don’t think I really need to ‘tutor’ you in what went wrong there do I?”

Keith groans, dropping his head onto the control board and Shiro chuckles as he stands from his seat.

“I have seen the scoreboard though.” Shiro continues, and Keith slowly swivels in the pilot’s chair to face him. “You’re really close to beating my highest score. I never got anywhere close to what you’re pulling off now until my third year.”

“Really? Somehow I have a hard time believing that.”

Shiro quirks an eyebrow. “You’re definitely destroying my scores in speed and agility in case you haven’t noticed.”

Keith shrugs, pulling at a loose string in his uniform. He really should get a spare after he shrunk his last spare uniform in a particularly poor laundry decision.

“I’m not really sure my help would improve your flight skills any more but in terms of sparring…”

Shiro trails off, looking at Keith expectantly as his gaze whips up to meet Shiro’s. Shiro waits a beat before continuing.

“How’s your ankle?”

“The nurse said I was all good to go at my checkup three days ago.” Keith’s pulse can’t help but jump. His instructor made good on her word, and he hasn’t been able to touch a training mat throughout his entire healing process. He can’t help but miss the training room, the exertion and the force, the dance of dodging blows and the satisfaction when his gloved fist lands upon his opponent. It’s the same dance he knows from heart, from dodging smaller, neighborhood fists in the alleys around the group foster home.

Shiro extends a hand out to pull him out of the pilot’s seat.

“Well let’s go then.”

\---

Keith dodges Shiro’s swipe, continuing his slow circle around Shiro in the middle of the training room.

“So how are you going to celebrate your big milestone officer?”

Shiro falls back into line with their circular pattern, eyes keen on Keith’s every move.

“Not an officer yet. I still have to graduate you know.”

Keith shrugs, looking for an opening in his stance.

“It’ll happen soon enough. Have you heard any talk of missions yet?”’

Keith lunges, aiming a blow that is quickly blocked by Shiro’s forearm.

“Nope. Don’t have to replace your favorite tutor just yet.”

He jumps back, retreating and putting more distance between them. “Your gig was up last semester you know.”

Shiro lets out a chuckle, letting the tension out of his stance for a moment. “It wasn’t really a gig if I wasn’t getting paid. Besides, I still think the practice is good for both of us.”

Keith is silent for a moment, contemplating.

“Do you think you’re really going to use all these hand-to-hand skills once you start going on missions?”

Shiro stops for a moment, stretching his limbs out and Keith mirrors him.

“Probably not,” he admits. He throws Keith a teasing smile. “Who know what’s out there though. Maybe this time next year I’ll be fist-fighting radioactive alien fungi on Mars.”

They continue circling each other, but Keith’s thoughts begin to race and a small frown appears on his face. Shiro misses his expression, and his momentary worry is opportunity enough for Shiro to lunge, hands twisting Keith’s arms behind his back and throwing his footing off until he’s dependent on Shiro’s grip to stay upright. His back almost meets Shiro’s chest, shoulders barely stretched taunt even as Shiro holds his arms back.

“Gotcha.”

Keith takes a moment to shake the sweat out of his hair and even that small movement jostles Shiro’s casual hold. His mind can’t help but fixate on Shiro’s previous words.

“Your hold isn’t tight enough.”

Shiro’s arms subconsciously tighten only a bit at Keith’s words before he lets out a confused sound. “Huh?”

“You’re not actually twisting my arms Shiro. If I were a real enemy you’d be down by now.” Keith’s voice sounds strained, tense, as if Shiro were truly exerting his full force against him. His head is hanging, chin angled to his chest but he still can’t spot Shiro’s expression behind him. “You didn’t even push me onto the floor.”

His stunned silence is palpable between them.

“I’m not trying to hurt you.” Shiro replies cautiously. His breath fans across the back of Keith’s neck as he speaks, and Keith suppresses a full body shiver.

Keith feels his blood beginning to rush to his head, and he quickly jerks both arms out of Shiro’s loose grasp, spinning on his heel and taking Shiro’s stance down with one swipe of his leg. Shiro’s knees buckle beneath him and he stumbles backward, landing with a thud as Keith rapidly climbs over him, digging one knee into his chest while one hand wraps around his throat.

It’s the first time he’s managed to fully immobilize Shiro, four months after they first began training together, and it’s causing Keith’s heartbeat to _surge_. Shiro’s chin is lifted, instinctually craning away from Keith’s long fingers pressing against his windpipe, and his expression is _stunned_ as he stares Keith down with wide eyes.

Keith wonders if he too looked so flushed all those times Shiro pressed him down against the training mat. His breath escapes him in one large exhale.

“I just-” Keith’s thoughts stumble and race over each other. “I just think it means nothing unless you’re serious about it here. You said it yourself you don’t know what’s out there. You don’t know what you might be up against.”

His grip on Shiro’s jugular finally loosens and shifts his knee off his chest until he’s only half straddling Shiro. He rips his gaze away from Shiro’s, head falling to glance down at his knobby knee. He hopes he didn’t leave a bruise.

Shiro’s chest rises and falls with deep breaths underneath him. Each inhale reverberates throughout the training room space, sounding like the desert winds that rattle the windows of his dorm room.

He lets out a small cough, clearing out his throat before he pushes himself up on one elbow, forehead just an inch away from meeting Keith’s.

“I…I won’t be like this out there. I promise.”

Keith swallows hard, nodding.

\---

He lets a slow breath out, leaning back on the wall of the castle’s changing room as he lets his body slump to the floor. He sits on the tiled floor, letting his body finally relax and his eyes slowly shut.

The sound of footsteps gradually approaching makes him peek through one eye, checking to see who chose to join him.

Shiro takes a seat on the changing bench across from where Keith sits on the floor, looking down at his seated figure.

“Long day?” He tries to joke, voice betraying an exhaustion he can’t hide. Keith notes the bags perpetually imprinted under his eyes, almost permanently etched into his skin as the scar above his nose is. _When was the last time you really slept Shiro_? He wonders.

“It’s not every day that the haunted mansion tries to murder you.” Keith replies. He raises his hand, red jacket crumpled up in his grip. “Forgot this in here when the training bot when haywire on me.”

They sit in slightly uncomfortable silence for a moment. Normally his mind would be racing, thinking of ways to fill the silence. He hasn’t completely learned how to navigate the quiet moments with Shiro since he came back, doesn’t know if the distance Shiro holds himself at is _all in his head_ or real. He’s too tired to do anything about it today.

Shiro is ultimately the one to break the silence.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m still alive right, the castle itself couldn’t take me out.”

Shiro gives Keith a stern look. “That’s not entirely a yes. There’s more to being alright than just surviving.”

Keith feels a pang of annoyance. _I am not going to have this heart-to-heart right now._

He senses his insecurities flaring up, his inability to tell just how far he can go with Shiro anymore, he can’t open back up to Shiro if he doesn’t know where he even stands. It’s difficult to sense just how much Shiro remembers of their Garrison days from his actions alone and it’s frustrating to try to read him like he did when they were both cadets. _This_ , this probing into Keith’s feelings, he can’t do it. He can’t do it until he no longer feels the subtle barrier Shiro puts up whenever they’re alone.  
  
“If I asked you the same question would you tell me what happened with Sendak earlier?”  
  
Shiro’s face closes off.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

Keith doesn’t push it and they’re back to silence. He feels a frustration build in his chest and he partially tunes Shiro out as he changes the subject.

“Allura wants us to put up some of the manual defenses in our rooms just for now until-”

Shiro continues on while Keith stares up at him through his lashes. With each breath he takes, the white tuft of hair hanging in front of his forehead shifts, jostled by the exhale. It moves almost as if it had a life of its own, and soon Keith isn’t paying attention to a word Shiro says. His mouth continues moving and on a particularly strong exhale the tuft rears up as if it were about to fly off his face.

Keith can’t help but let out a snort of laughter.

Shiro stops in the middle of his sentence, glancing at Keith in surprise.

“Sorry. It’s just-” Keith firmly keeps his gaze away from Shiro’s face, fully knowing another glance at his hair would send him into another fit of laughter. “It’s just your hair.”

Shiro’s surprised expression doesn’t subside a bit.

“My hair? Were you even listening to anything I was saying?”

Keith ignores the second part of his question. “That tuft has a life of its own.”

Shiro’s hand lifts to tug his hair in front of his face self-consciously and Keith hastens to explain.

“Sorry it just kept moving as you talked. Sort of reminded me of these old white canaries one of my foster mothers used to have.”

Keith ignores the pang in his chest at the memory of selling all those old white canaries, along with the rest of the animals left over in the pet shop, after the funeral. It wasn’t until the shop was emptied out, the only things left behind empty cardboard boxes and some strewn bird seed, when he formally accepted the offer to enroll in the Galaxy Garrison.

Shiro lets go of the tuft, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Huh. Like one of Mrs. Morris’ old white canaries then? That’s a new one. Pidge told me it looked like a bad dye job the other day and then Lance said a touch of grey was sexy these days.”

Keith cracks another grin, feeling the day’s residual tension melt off his shoulders.

“I think you missed grey by a few shades.”

Shiro lets out a dry chuckle, pushing himself off the bench and stretching his arms out in front of him.

“Well I’m sorry my touch of grey distracted you from the important instructions about securing our rooms for the night.” He sends Keith a pointed look down to his position still on the floor. “But I’m sure you can figure it out when you get inside.”

Keith shrugs. _I don’t know if you remember but I happen to sleep with a knife._ He bites his tongue.

Shiro sighs, stepping around Keith to get to the door.

“Goodnight Keith.”

“Night.”

The door slides shut behind Shiro and Keith smiles to himself.

The unexpected warmth of their conversation keeps him relaxed in his position until he begins to feel a heaviness behind his eyelids telling him to get to his bed. He places his palms face down on the tile floor, beginning to push himself up to a standing position when he feels a a cold jolt run through his system.

 _I didn’t mention the name of my foster mother._ The realization settles into his veins like a dry ice. He spins on his heel, half expecting to see Shiro still in the room, but is faced with emptiness.

His breathing feels haggard as he darts into the hall, pacing down to Shiro’s room with his heart in his throat. His fist comes up automatically to pound at the door when he reaches it but something stops him, knuckles an inch from the door.

 _He probably didn’t realize he even said it._ A small voice in his mind tells him. _You don’t know exactly what he remembers._

The tightness in his chest seems to constrict even further. He lets his fist drop.

 _What else do you remember Shiro?_ He knows he should begin to make his way back to his own room, but his feet feel heavy, frozen in place. _What aren’t you telling me?_

\---

Matt Holt is standing in the hallway outside the locker room doors when they exit, Keith’s hair still damp from his shower, orange cadet shirt untucked, while Shiro hides the fact that they’d been sparring nonstop for the past two hours well, looking impeccable in his fresh green officer’s uniform.

“Training doesn’t stop even on the weekends for you two does it?” Matt says with a small smile, stepping into stride with both of them as make their way down the hallway.

“Ah! Matt, I’m sorry I was just on the way to meet you. I just got your message-” Shiro starts, before Matt cuts him off with an excited shake of his head.

“Don’t worry about it! I’m still gathering the details myself. Nothing is set in stone yet obviously but I overheard my dad talking about a new mission the Garrison is trying to launch in the upcoming months. Apparently it’s super high priority and all the higher ranks are being completely hush about it until they figure out the logistics.”

The eagerness in Matt’s tone is palpable and Keith takes a small step away from their conversation, falling a half a step behind as they continue down the corridor. He likes Matt a decent amount, at least as much as he usually likes any other cadet in the Garrison, but his occasionally high strung energy tires him out. It’s also no secret that Matt is whip-smart, and sometimes when Shiro’s left the room and it’s just the two of them, a small paranoid part of Keith _swears_ Matt can sense the way Keith shifts his energies toward Shiro, just how stupidly far gone he is for him.

It doesn’t help that Keith keeps accidentally meeting Matt’s eyes across the mess hall when Keith’s staring at Shiro. He doesn’t know if to feel an embarrassment at being caught staring, or a nagging insecurity that Matt has also trained his gaze around Shiro, and that the looks he sometimes shares with Keith are just a result of that gravitational pull drawing them both in to the same center.

He knows rationally that they’ve have been close friends for years. Irrationally he still thinks about what it would be like to finally have some sort of legitimate claim on Shiro over Matt, to shed the outdated title of tutor and student, to become something _more._

He subconsciously tunes back in at the sound of Shiro’s voice.

“No idea where yet?”

Matt shakes his head.

“They’ll probably start privately testing potential crew members before they announce it to everyone else.” A mischievous glint appears in his eyes. “Although I could probably do some digging and get access to the digital files before then.”

Shiro throws him an unamused look. “Or you could do it the old fashioned way and just try asking your dad about the mission. Don’t get yourself disqualified before they even start looking at candidates.”

“I wont, I wont.” Matt reassures him unconvincingly, unfazed. “My money would be on Kerberos or Hydra though, I stopped by the research labs with Katie last week to grab lunch with Jacob, you remember Jacob right? From third-year chemistry? Anyway, he’s doing research in the far wing now and he was telling me about their newest developments, apparently they’ve been-”

Matt suddenly pauses in the middle of the hallway, Keith only barely managing to stop himself from accidentally barreling into him as his momentum is thrown off. Shiro too stops in response, looking at Matt with a befuddled expression on his face.

Matt’s head swivels to the side, facing a whispering pair of cadets leaning against the row of lockers.

“I’m sorry what did you just say?”

Matt’s tone sounds genuinely puzzled, but the intensity of his sudden focused attention causes the blonde cadet to jolt, clearly surprised and clearly not expecting to have been overheard.

Keith internally groans the cadet regains his bearings under Matt’s inquisitive gaze and glances toward Keith with a sneer dancing on his lips. _It had to be Coleman_.

“I said that _I didn’t know becoming an officer meant getting your own personal guard dog_.” Coleman’s eyes land on Shiro for a second before he’s back to staring right at Keith. “He can’t go five steps without you trailing behind huh. I see that knife you’re always carrying under your uniform. That sure as hell can’t be Garrison issue.”

Keith feels the heat rise to his head as both Shiro and Matt turn to him with startled looks. His fingers bundle into fists and he takes a threatening step toward Coleman.

“Haven’t you already been suspended once? I’ll be sure to kick your ass before you go this time.”

Coleman doesn’t flinch until Keith’s hand unthinkingly and instinctually touches the hilt of his knife hidden under his uniform coat and suddenly Shiro is stepping in, grip tight around Keith’s arm as he drags him down the hallway.

“Matt sorry I’ll find you later to continue-” Shiro calls over his shoulder, still using his strength to haul Keith away as he struggles to get his forearm out of Shiro’s grip.

“Let. me. go”

Shiro complies only once they’ve turned the corner, out of sight of both Matt and Coleman, shoving them both into the nearest storage closet and shutting the door tightly behind them.

The frustrated heat rising to Keith’s forehead hasn’t subsided, although a different type of heat invades his face as he tries to take a step back from Shiro’s imposing figure, back hitting the wall of the small closet space.

Shiro looks down at him, brow furrowed as if looking at a puzzle he can’t completely figure out.

“Is he right?”

Keith’s chin jolts up defiantly.

“About being your personal guard dog?”

Shiro’s expression doesn’t shift an inch. “About carrying a knife under your uniform.”

He grimaces and they’re both silent for a second before Keith reaches under his coat, pulling his knife out of his belt by its well-worn handle. He holds it flat in his palm in the space between them, avoiding Shiro’s gaze.

“Is that answer enough for you?” Shiro remains silent and Keith continues. “I’ve had it since I was in foster care.”

 _And I’ll be damned if anyone tries to take it away._ He thinks, glancing up at Shiro’s softening expression. _Even you._

Shiro sighs tiredly, running a hand through his dark locks.

“ _Fuck_ , you could get kicked out for a concealed weapon you know that? Hell, _I_ could suspend you for that. I’m an officer now.”

“I’ve never used it.” Keith protests.

 _Here._ He amends internally. Never used it _here._

“That’s not the point.”

Keith feels his temper flare up again and he flips the knife in his palm, wrapped hilt facing Shiro, arm outstretched.

“Go ahead then officer. Write me up. Confiscate the contraband.”

Shiro stares at him, unamused, before reaching out with a soft touch. He brings Keith’s other hand up, folding his fingers around the hilt of the knife and guiding it back to its sheath on Keith’s belt.

“I’m not going to do that.”

His hand lightly brushes Keith’s hipbone as he pulls away and Keith feels his anger draining fast. He’s left feeling slightly abashed at his outburst under Shiro’s inscrutable look.

Shiro takes a step back, letting his back rest against the opposite wall of the storage closet.

“I didn’t know you were in foster care.”

Keith attempts to shrug nonchalantly in response, shoulders still tense.

“What’s there to say about it?”

Shiro’s eyes search out his and it’s Shiro’s turn to fake shrug.

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

\----

“You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to share, Keith”

Allura glances up at him expectantly from where she sits, perched on the edge of his bathtub. “I just want us to get to know each other better. I feel like we haven’t really had the opportunity to talk, just us two.”

Keith gives her what he hopes looks like a natural smile in response, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck nervously.

“I- uh, I know but uh, I was really just trying to figure out how this shower worked and now that you’ve shown me I kind of just want to-”

He is very quickly regretting not showering in the training room’s showers as per usual, the tubs within the Paladin’s quarters looking like an elaborate labyrinth until Allura passed by the corridor.

Allura manages to courteously ignore his evasive attitude, trying a different tactic.

“You know, Lance was unsurprisingly the one that was most open to chatting with me earlier. Although he wasn’t too enthusiastic once I started mentioning some of the things that my mice have caught him doing around the castle.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, interest piqued.

“Apparently he’s run out of face masks, and is trying an experiment to see whether our Altean ‘food goo’ might have any sort of moisturizing properties if left on overnight. It’s why he’s been asking Coran for so many seconds at dinner lately.”

Keith can only stare at her for a moment.

“Are you telling me Lance slathers his face in food goo every night and goes to sleep like that?”

Allura nods, faux-solemnly.

“I had been wondering why my mice were so drawn to his room these past few nights. I’m willing to guess by the time he wakes up most of it is gone though. My mice have been looking especially well-fed lately and he wasn’t too happy when I brought it up during our chat.”

Keith can’t help but burst out laughing, clutching at his gut while Allura giggles along with him. When he finally feels the laughter subside in his stomach, he sits on the opposite end of the tub, knees angled slightly toward Allura.

She spies her opening in his more relaxed posture.

“You know, my mice really do have eyes and ears all over the castle.”

Keith automatically stiffens and she backtracks quickly.

“I just mean that well, when we’re all spending so much time together it can be hard to keep too many secrets from each other.” She starts slowly.

Keith looks up, meeting her gaze. It’s probably the closest he’s ever physically been to Allura, and at this proximity he can’t help but feel reminded of their differences. The violet specks in her eyes seem to gleam unnaturally back at him, the angles of her face more defined. She’s still looking back at him expectantly; eyes open for longer _tics_ at a time almost as if the need to blink is only an afterthought.

“I’m not…entirely sure what you want me to say.”

Allura shifts, leaning forward as if planning to share a secret between them. The searing violet specks move closer. She pauses for a moment, mouth open.

“They’ve noticed how much you watch Shiro.”

Keith feels his face flame up, and Allura takes his silence as a cue to continue.

“ _I’ve_ noticed how much you watch Shiro. Shiro only hasn’t noticed because I think he’s told himself not to look.”

He feels frozen in place, keeping his expression suspicious and his tone guarded.

“ _Everyone_ looks to Shiro, Allura. He’s our leader.”

She finally leans back again, sensing Keith’s growing discomfort, although she doesn’t look satisfied.

“I just want to be clear that well, as a friend, I’ll support you in whatever you choose to do Keith. Whatever route you decide you want to take with it. And if you do choose to tell him, I want to wish you two all the best.”

Her sudden shift to a sincere earnestness has Keith wanting to take another step back. He feels strangely speechless for a moment before finding his voice again.

“Well, er, thank you? I really don’t, uh, don’t think anything of any sort will be happening soon but-” Keith somehow wants to show that he appreciates her sincerity. “-but you’ll be sure to get a wedding invitation when it does.”

He immediately regrets the words as they come out of his mouth, joke falling completely flat. _God, way to let her know just how far gone you are._

She’s gracious enough to grant him a small laugh, and her face immediately brightens at his half-hearted, stumbling admission.

“I’m glad you feel like you can confide in me at least a bit Keith. I truly do want to know all of you as friends, not just as paladins.”

Keith responds with a small smile, expecting her to stand from the edge of the tub, satisfied.

However, she remains seated, hands crossing in her lap.

“But-”

The shift in her previously jovial tone has Keith looking up from his lap, facing a determined expression on her face.

“But less as a friend and more as Voltron’s tactical commander, I also want you to know that your feelings for Shiro cannot impact your performance as a paladin or the group’s performance. I cannot have you prioritizing his safety nor overriding my commands during battle and putting the entire group at risk. You’re a strong pilot and paladin Keith, but you’re not the only pilot out there.”

Heat shoots through his veins and he opens his mouth, ready to protest before Allura cuts him off, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

“Lance told me you used to be the best pilot in your class back on Earth until you came at your commander with a knife.”

He tenses at the memory.

“That was something completely different, I would never-”

She interrupts him again, voice fierce.

“My goal, and _Shiro_ ’s goal and the goal of Voltron is to take down Zarkon and his empire. The Galra destroyed my home and everyone that I knew with it, and _that_ is where my fight lies. So whatever sacrifices this position demands of me, I'm willing to take it. And I can only hope that my you, along with the other paladins, can operate the same way."

Keith swallows hard.

"Allura I understand. I wont-" He thinks of the first night he spent lying outside his shack in the desert sand, gazing at the infinite night sky that swallowed up the Kerberos crew and all his hopes with them. "I won't let...this... get in the way."

Her expression softens, and she chances a quick squeeze at his shoulder before pushing up off the edge of the tub.

“I’m glad then.”

And she’s out the door.

Keith sits for another moment, feeling winded by a sudden tightness in his chest.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and his racing thoughts are interrupted by a pounding at his door, followed by Lance’s screech.

“WHY WAS ALLURA JUST LEAVING YOUR BATHROOM?”

\---

Lance’s appalled expression burns into his mind, and he blames the frustration rising in his chest for his actions, purposefully and childishly shoving his shoulder into Shiro as he pulls his helmet on and storms toward his lion.

He can feel it calling for him, drawing him in and encouraging him to let his emotions expand. To let them become one. Reassuring him that _it understands._

Shiro’s perpetually composed demeanor finally cracks as Keith’s shoulder shoves into his, hitting cool metal without breaking a stride.

“ _Fucking hell,_ Keith-”

"You know I'm right. We’re delivering the lions straight into Zarkon’s hands, it's not what she would've wanted.” Keith bites out without looking back. "She’s not a damsel. No use in all of you looking at me as if I'd suggested we kill her ourselves."

He sees Shiro flinch in his periphery.

"We have to rescue her-”

“It’s a suicide mission and you know it.”

He doesn't give Shiro a chance to respond as he rounds the corner and breathes deeply.

\---

He lets out his breath just as he knocks on Shiro's door.

A familiar muffled voice calls through the door.

“Come in.”

Keith steps inside his dorm room, shutting the door behind him softly.

"Your room is so far now that you've been upgraded.”

Shiro is lying on his back on top of his sheets, not even glancing up at Keith’s entrance. The new room is only slightly bigger than Keith's own barracks but the lack of the second bunk bed gives it the illusion of more space. Shiro’s absent a roommate, although Matt is only a door down in their temporary crew wing.

"Fancy living if I say so myself." Shiro answers absentmindedly, and Keith puzzles at his intent upward gaze before craning his neck up to face the ceiling himself.

"Is that a map of Kerberos?"

Shiro nods tiredly.

"Jesus no wonder you look like you haven't slept for days. You don't need that hanging over your head. Literally."

Keith puts a knee on the bed next to Shiro, bed dipping under his weight as he reaches up to trace the contours of the map.

Shiro covers his eyes with his elbow and groans. "Matt has the complete topographical map memorized already. He's moving on to the geographical composition of its prominent natural features tomorrow."

Keith smiles to himself, placing a hand on Shiro’s shoulder to steady himself as Shiro’s movement jostles his balance on the bed.

"I don't think you need to know the shape of every rock on Kerberos to fly the plane."

Shiro's hand absentmindedly moves to rest on top of Keith's knee. "I know. I just want to be prepared."

Keith's answering reassurance dies in his throat as Shiro's hand begins to climb and absentmindedly rub his outer lower thigh affectionately. It's only after a few seconds of silence that Shiro peeks his eyes out from under his elbow and realizes what he's doing.

" _Shit_ sorry-" his hand immediately retracts and his face flushes harder than Keith has ever seen it before. “Just distracted.”

Keith feels a little lightheaded, a little brave too when he lifts his other knee onto the bed and shifts down onto his side to face Shiro. They’ve both grown, filled out more since that far off first meeting in the infirmary and it’s difficult to fit onto the bed without feeling each other’s radiating warmth.

"It's fine. I--don't mind." He stammers out. "At all."

Shiro lifts himself up on an elbow so his face is level with Keith's, flush slowly fading and eyes searching Keith's expression. He opens his mouth then closes it, frowning to himself. Keith’s hand slowly begins to move across the bed, bridging the small gap between them as Shiro opens his mouth again.

“You know after this week I’ll be gone for a year, if not more.”

Keith’s hand stops and he glances at Shiro under his eyelashes. _Now or never Keith either you open your mouth right now or you send him off to space without telling him how much you want to-_

“I’ll wait for you” Keith blurts out, interrupting his own train of thought, jaw set in determination. “If you want me to.”

The “to” feels superfluous to him. _If you want me. If you want this._

It's the first time he's ever mentioned putting some name to what they're doing but far from the first time Keith's thought about it. Shiro’s face softens and Keith _knows_ he’s thought about it too. The implication makes his chest leap and the victory trumpets sounding off in his mind help him realize he is a _goner_.

Shiro says his name softly as if wanting to argue. "Keith you don't-"

"I don't want anyone else." He takes the opportunity to bury his fist in Shiro’s thin shirt, pulling himself closer to Shiro’s body, making him confront him, his warmth, his affection as his fist relaxes and he places his palm against Shiro’s chest.

Shiro lets out a shuddering breath, chest falling under Keith’s palm, and he’s looking down at him with a pure wonder in his eyes. His hand comes up to rest gently against Keith’s burning cheek and Keith’s face angles up automatically, pulse racing in anticipation. He might not have any personal experience but he knows how this move goes.

Instead, Shiro tilts Keith’s face slightly away from him, head falling into the space between his neck and his collarbone, resting there for a moment before he opens his mouth again and his breath fans out across Keith’s skin.

Keith’s voice is trapped in his throat, waiting for another sort of cue, _another affirmation that-_

“You have no idea how much you make me want to stay right now. _God,_ Keith-”

Shiro cuts himself off with a firm kiss to the side of his neck, quickly followed by another one slightly above it, until Shiro is running his mouth wetly up to his jaw, making Keith _shiver_.

He feels a strong jolt in his lower stomach, mouth opening in a small _oh_ as he wraps his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, pulling him closer, nudging his face up with his own until their breaths intermingle and Shiro _finally_ pulls him in with a firm hand on his cheek, sliding their lips together fiercely.

Keith bites back a moan at the feel of Shiro’s mouth moving against his own, fingers scrabbling at his back as he tries to pull him _closer_ , sliding a thigh between his legs and letting Shiro push him onto his back without breaking their kiss.

It’s only when he desperately feels a need to breath, dizzy with exhilaration, that Keith lets his head fall back on the bed, separating from Shiro’s kiss with a wet sound. Shiro’s mouth seems to follow automatically and his grip on Keith seems to get tighter as he presses open-mouth kisses into the side of his neck.

“I can’t wait to come back to you.”

Keith’s pulse jumps and he arches into his touch, moving to grasp Shiro’s short hair and pulling his head up to eye level. His eyes frantically search Shiro’s face, finding nothing but affection in his burning gaze and he pulls him down to meet his lips once again.

He can’t suppress his moan this time as Shiro slides his tongue into his open mouth, mouths trembling together and bodies flexing against each other.

Keith pushes upright, eyes still shut, as he wrestles to bring the hem of his t-shirt over his head. He’s interrupted by Shiro softly calling his name before kissing him again, hands joining Keith’s as he tries to get his shirt up past his chest.

“Keith.”

The room is hot, and his vision swims when he tries to open his eyes, electing instead to keep them shut as he presses himself closer to Shiro’s body. He’s still struggling with his shirt, beginning to feel a tightness in his lungs as Shiro places a palm on his chest.

“Keith, _god,_ come on.”

He frowns, sensing a different kind of urgency in Shiro’s tone, a worry. He’s given up on struggling with his shirt as the feeling around his chest starts to _constrict_ , and instead blindly seeks out Shiro’s mouth again, head lulling to the side. He senses the sounds of the bed, the rustling clothing, the skin against skin, Shiro calling his name, start to fade, falling away in volume.

“KEITH.”

His eyes fly open with a jolt, chest almost burning in relief as he gasps in cold air, lungs drinking in mouthfuls of oxygen. He stares into Shiro’s panicked gaze as Shiro leans over his body in the pilot’s seat of the red lion.

Shiro murmurs in relief, breath leaving him in one large exhale as he presses his palm against Keith’s cheek gently. “You’re back. You’re back.”

Keith is still gasping, leaning back in his pilot’s seat as his hands come up to chest, feeling at his pieced chest-plate.

Shiro’s hand falls from his cheek as he leans back, giving Keith a better view of the broken cockpit, his helmet strewn on the ground, controls flickering.

“I had to break through your chest-plate, you weren’t breathing Keith. I broke in when we both landed here.”

He feels his breathing start to even out, although the burning in his lungs continues. He opens his mouth to speak, but his voice isn’t prepared for even a minor sound.

Shiro continues to look at him worriedly, and it isn’t until he lets his chin drop to his chest for a second that he realizes Shiro is rubbing his knee reassuringly, just as he did in his room before Kerberos.  
  
His heart drops into his stomach as he looks back up into Shiro’s eyes. The warmth from where Shiro had his hand on his cheek before is fading fast.

_What else do you remember Shiro? What aren’t you telling me?_

**Author's Note:**

> this is the longest thing I've written in a while but like... y'all.... i love this pair. 
> 
> Please Please Please comments and kudos are my lifeblood, tell me anything about it. What you liked, what you didn't, even just copy and paste your favorite line idc!! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr under the same name (billionairevolleyboysclub) and come talk to me about anything


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